


all forms of madness

by bottomlinsons (grimgrace)



Series: drabblin' [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anonymous Prompts, Drabble, Fluff, Humor, M/M, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 16:44:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5633839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimgrace/pseuds/bottomlinsons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Can you write about Niall setting Harry and Louis up on a blind date because both are too scared to make a move :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	all forms of madness

**Author's Note:**

> Can you write about Niall setting Harry and Louis up on a blind date because both are too scared to make a move :)

 

The restaurant is buzzing with life. Almost every table is full, there’s lively jazz music playing at exactly the right volume and all of the patrons seem to be in a wonderful mood. Even the staff seem content, joking with each other as they deliver food to table and enjoying the ambiance. 

Their table is silent. 

Completely, totally, silent. 

“This is dumb,” Louis says. 

Harry swallows noticeably from across the table. “So dumb,” he agrees. 

“ _Niall_ is dumb,” Louis corrects himself. 

Harry nods again and says, “He _is_ dumb.” 

Louis wants to dig a hole through the bright red restaurant floor carpet and tunnel his way out of this conversation. Harry probably feels the same way, if the way he’s eyeing his dessert spoon is anything to go by. 

They both fall silent again. There’s a basket of warm Italian bread between the two of them, with olive oil and that yummy kind of vinegar that Louis lives for. It’s a starter that Louis had ordered when he’d believed he was waiting for his blind date named _Henry._

Louis is very aware that he’s also incredibly dumb, for falling for a ploy as simple as that, but he’s already having a bad enough night. The more he refuses to accept responsibility for this _train wreck_ the better.

He desperately grasps for something to say. 

“Bread stick?” Is what he comes up with. 

Nope. No. Abort. 

Harry shakes his head as Louis frantically scopes out the space between his chair and the nearest fucking exit. Harry’s voice interrupts him before he gets a good grip with his shoes though, so he hasn’t actually lurched from his chair when Harry lets out a low chuckle. 

That laugh is pretty close to number one on the list of one thousand and one reasons Louis’ got a mad as hell crush on the boy sitting opposite him. There are other things, like the way Harry’s hair curls at his collarbone and how his voice sounds when he says Louis’ name, but not many of them top that absurd little giggle of his. 

“No, thank you, Lou,” Harry says then. 

(’ _Lou’_  is also on the list. In fact, ‘ _Lou’_ sometimes keeps Louis awake at night.) 

Louis narrows his eyes though, and refuses to let the nickname effect him. “What?” he says slowly. 

Harry’s still laughing a bit. “They’re not bread sticks,” he says. 

Louis frowns. “What?” he says again. 

Harry nods pointedly down at the basket - of _bread sticks,_ thank you very much - and grins. “Those,” he says. “They’re not break sticks. They’re just bread.” 

Louis splutters. “Uhm, excuse you,” he says indignantly. “I’ve been to Olive Garden, I think I know what a fucking bread stick is.” 

Incredibly, this sets Harry off again. “When have _you_ ever been to an Olive Garden?” he asks. 

“I’ve been!” Louis defends himself. “I went that one time! With, with Stan and the others, like in March or something - but that’s not even the point! Those are fucking bread sticks.” 

Harry shakes his head. He looks like he’s at least trying to stem the laughter now, but he’s doing a very poor job of it. “They’re really, really not.” 

Louis ignores any and every instinctive reaction he has to Harry laughing like this and does his very best not to pout. 

“How would you even know!?” he demands. “You don’t even _eat_ bread, do you? Got too many carbs or whatever.” 

“That doesn’t mean I don’t know what bread looks like.” 

Louis narrows his eyes to a glare and seethes for a moment. Harry, the smug git, continues to giggle. 

“If I’d known this is was how my night was going to go, I wouldn’t have come,” he says, only slightly petulantly. 

Harry’s smile doesn’t dim in the slightest. His eyebrows do rise a little though, the way they always do when Harry knows he’s about to throw a curve ball. Louis doesn’t even have time to brace himself. 

“Really?” Harry asks. “Which part killed it for you? The bread sticks or your date?” 

Well. 

Okay. 

At least that proves Louis can read Harry fairly well. 

Louis feels himself flush down to his toes and curses Niall for perhaps the thousandth time that evening. And also Harry, for being so cute and endearing and for turning Louis into the pining mess that Niall had evidently decided needed a kick up the arse. 

Louis reaches for the chilled bottle of water in the middle of the table and refills both their cups, immeasurably grateful to have something to keep his eyes focused on. 

“Well,” he says, wetting his lips as he puts the bottle down. He glances up just in time to see Harry’s gaze dart up from Louis’ lips. And that’s, that’s - well, that’s just entirely too much to think about right now. “I suppose you’re not _so_ bad.” 

“Yeah?” Harry’s smile spreads impossibly wider, dimpling his cheeks and crinkling the skin at the corner of his eyes. Louis feels something flutter in his gut that could possibly, maybe, perhaps even been hope. 

Louis can’t help his own responding grin. “Yeah,” he says. 

They stare at each other, the table silent once again. This time it’s much more peaceful. Then, 

“Those are definitely fucking bread sticks though.” 


End file.
